


Someone Locked it and Threw Away the Key

by Reyanth



Category: Prince of Tennis, Tenipuri - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Lemon, M/M, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 01:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10294208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: The subtext of that famous locker-room exchange and where it really led...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to post this because I don't really write one-shots anymore... but it seemed as good a White Day fic as any. ^_^ Enjoy!

Fuji felt somewhat empty. For a moment… Just for one, brief moment, he had wanted to play. He might even have wanted to win. Now, the rain falling outside was an echo of his whitewashed emotions. 

It was as if the tensai had been standing on the threshold of an airplane hatch, seconds from jumping, when the hatch suddenly closed and he was knocked onto his backside. He had missed the jump and felt as though he would never get a second chance. He regretted it.

Regret. Such a nasty word.

He was aware of Tezuka standing there, silently watching him. He knew he had to say something, or else they might just stay like that the whole night through; one sitting slumped on a bench, the other staring coldly, waiting for him to act.

“Say, Tezuka. Did you also feel this way when you played against Echizen?”

“You knew?” Tezuka didn’t really sound surprised.

“Somehow, yeah,” Fuji said quietly.

He didn’t get a real answer. Maybe he truly was the only one who felt so empty when handed just a glimpse of greatness.

“Why didn’t you seriously play to win in that match?” Tezuka asked suddenly. Fuji looked up in surprise. Was he that transparent? They stared at each other for a few moments before Tezuka continued. “Inui once said that you won’t let him collect your data.” Trust Tezuka to hit a nerve. “Where is the real you?” 

Fuji broke his gaze. He was ashamed that Tezuka had noticed, and the emptiness grew just a little deeper... “Tezuka,” he began. “It seems like I can’t really get into a match.”

“Fuji...”

He ignored the muttering of his name, figuring he might as well finish what he had started. “Drawing out my opponent’s ability to its limit, and enjoying the thrill… Isn’t that all there is?” At the last, he looked up at the captain, subtly pleading for Tezuka to agree. “What about you?” he prompted, needing to know that he wasn’t alone.

“What do you mean?” Tezuka asked, instantly dashing Fuji’s hopes. “I win, no matter what. Winning the nationals… That’s all I care about right now.”

Of course. What else had Fuji expected? Tezuka seemed like the confidant, relaxed type, but once one got under his skin, there was that stubborn determination…

Tezuka not only wanted but also expected to win the nationals. He believed in himself, and in his team, and he believed in Fuji. 

…But what if Fuji didn’t believe in himself? What if he couldn’t rouse himself to truly fight, and actually lost at a crucial point? What if he destroyed Tezuka’s hope… his dream? It was too much pressure.

Steeling himself, Fuji managed to speak the words that threatened to stick in his throat. “If this is going to be a problem, then take me out of the regulars.” At least then, he could say that it was Tezuka’s choice to let him play, knowing full well how unreliable he truly was…

“No,” Tezuka replied calmly and instantly, without explaining the answer. He turned his back on Fuji and began to walk away as if that was the end of the conversation, full stop.

Fuji watched him, the emptiness building into anger both at Tezuka and at himself. He lowered his gaze. “Tezuka…” The captain stopped. “Sometimes… I really hate you,” he admitted quietly.

When Tezuka didn’t move or speak, Fuji’s eyes slowly raised to observe his stiff back. The tension was almost palpable.

“I suppose this is one of those times.” Tezuka’s tone was unreadable.

Though he moved slowly and decisively, Fuji didn’t really think as he stood, drawing the towel from his neck and slapping it down on the bench. He approached, walking around the captain and holding eye contact the moment it was established. 

When they were directly opposite each other, his hand shot out, gripping Tezuka’s shirt in his fist. He yanked hard, tilting his head back so that Tezuka’s lips met his own, startling the captain and throwing him off balance. The kiss was simple and short but when Fuji let go of the material bunched up in his grasp, Tezuka’s shock was well worth it. 

Knowing that the expression he wore was one he rarely showed—confused, unguarded, and tired—Fuji’s lips twitched in a weak, apologetic smile. “Sometimes, I love you,” he whispered. 

He felt like he was going to cry. Why, now—when he felt like he was being honest for the first time since their freshman match—could he not face Tezuka? At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to play one game where he didn’t lower himself to the opponent’s level—one game where he didn’t have to. 

“I don’t know what I feel right now,” he breathed helplessly.

“I don’t understand you, Fuji,” Tezuka whispered. His eyebrows twitched just slightly as he studied the tensai’s face.

At the confused reply, Fuji found his feet moving by themselves, step by step. He backed towards the door—ball, flat, heel, ball, flat, heel—until he leaned against it, one leg propped up, his palms flat against the surface. He felt helpless. He always felt helpless, but now… now he couldn’t hide it behind a smile. Now Tezuka could easily recognize that helplessness in every part of his body language, in every note of his voice. 

He waited, pressed against the door, and somehow, Tezuka followed, step by step, until one hand touched the wall beside Fuji’s head. In the same movement, Tezuka bent to kiss him, their eyes string unnaturally into the other’s despite the proximity. He paused, his lips so very close, at the last point where they could hold eye contact.

Tezuka studied Fuji’s eyes for a suspended moment and the tensai felt as though he was being read like a book. Though Tezuka’s soul was laid equally as bare in that moment, Fuji was unable to see past his own fear of rejection. 

Then Tezuka closed the distance, pressing his slightly parted lips against Fuji’s. Both of them began to close their eyes at the same time as Tezuka’s tongue slipped into Fuji’s mouth. His other hand came up to the wall as though to keep Fuji from escaping—but Fuji was already escaping. Tezuka’s lips were his escape. The tongue caressing his own, the body pressed against his… they were his escape from the confusion inside.

The gentle, almost hesitant kiss evolved quickly into something more heated. As in everything, once the two of them passed their original inhibitions, there was no turning back. Fuji’s arms rose between the captain’s to circle his neck and pull him closer. 

He rose up on tip-toe to deepen the kiss as their height difference became apparent and Tezuka’s arms encircled him in support. Still, their tongues entwined and their lips danced, and Fuji’s fingers tangled in Tezuka’s hair.

It seemed as if the kiss would last forever but even with their athletic stamina, the two eventually ran out of breath. They broke the kiss simultaneously, their lips only a breath apart as they both panted, the embrace not giving an inch.

When his eyes opened, Fuji’s gaze was resolved. With lust to focus on, frustration over tennis was forgotten. He gently removed Tezuka’s glasses, their lenses slightly wet after brushing against his damp hair, and blindly set them down on the ledge of the nearby whiteboard.

Tezuka’s lips had already dipped to his neck, licking at the residual rainwater from his hair and nipping gently at the skin here and there. Gasping, Fuji tilted his head to encourage the captain, reacting instinctively as his wet shirt was pulled over his head and tossed aside. 

That obstacle removed, Tezuka’s lips went straight for Fuji’s nipple, his teeth nibbling and tongue flicking over the hardening bud. Meanwhile, his hand slid beneath the waistband the tensai’s shorts. 

“Tezuka…”

Fuji wanted this so much it hurt. His body was instantly sensitive to Tezuka’s touch. After so long of stroking himself and wishing it was Tezuka’s hand, wondering what those lips felt like, needing to know what it was like to be wrapped up in those strong, protective arms… Fuji was on fire. 

At first, he only allowed himself to make small noises, though he was desperately holding in a long, loud moan. Whimpers and gasps slipped passed his lips, even as he trembled under Tezuka’s touch. 

He subtly urged Tezuka to strip him and steered the captain away from getting sidetracked with foreplay. What Fuji wanted was to be taken, then and there, and there was no way he was letting Tezuka slip out of his grasp.

He stole Tezuka’s fingers away from his length, which twitched in protest, and brought them to his lips. Steadily holding a deep brown gaze, he drew those fingers into his mouth one by one, sucking and then licking them slowly and seductively with little nibbles until each was slick with saliva.

Then, he hooked one arm around Tezuka’s neck, kissing the captain deeply. His thumb gently rubbed soothing circles on tense wrist as his lips and tongue lulled Tezuka into a state that negated protest.

Once Tezuka was sufficiently distracted, he turned around, smoothly removing what remained of his clothing and leading Tezuka’s wet fingers to his naked backside. “Please,” he whispered. “Indulge me?”

Tezuka seemed to wake from a trance but instead of arguing as Fuji expected, he growled softly, running one finger over Fuji’s entrance as he pressed his whole body against the tensai’s.

“If that’s what you really want,” he breathed into Fuji’s ear, sending shivers down the tensai’s spine, straight to his aching erection.

Moaning, Fuji rested his forehead against the wall, relaxing as Tezuka pushed a finger into him. “You surprise me,” he murmured, his breath hitching at the awkward sensation. He licked his lips and relaxed further, and Tezuka’s finger slipped securely in.

“What can I say?” Tezuka rumbled, his voice working like lava through Fuji’s body. “You have me at a loss.”

“Is that so?” The question came out more like a moan than actual words as Tezuka began to work his finger back and forth.

Tezuka nuzzled his neck, the captain’s other hand snaking around to lightly cup Fuji’s balls. He added a second finger, obviously slightly impatient.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Tezuka told him. His voice sounded slightly more bitter than Fuji would have liked. “So I’ll give you what you say you want.”

“As if you don’t want it,” Fuji gasped, pressing back against the fingers inside of him. Those fingers slid deeper and then flexed, sending an unexpected wave of pleasure through the tensai. “That’s enough!” Fuji yelped breathily.

“Hardly, Fuji-”

“I said, that’s enough!” Fuji snapped. He was more than willing to take a little pain. He needed Tezuka inside of him now or he thought he might just sink into an abyss of apathy. 

Tezuka’s fingers withdrew and Fuji forcibly calmed himself. It wouldn’t do to drive his prospective lover away and lose this rare chance.

“Ne, Tezuka…” he amended, turning to face the captain once more as he worked shorts and underwear down over Tezuka’s ass, legs, and then off. “Sometimes I like a little discomfort.”

Somehow, his reassurance didn’t produce quite the response he had hoped for but the scowl quickly disappeared, replaced by a resigned sigh. “If that’s what you want.” Tezuka quickly removed and discarded his own shirt.

Fuji was about to point out that he wasn’t exactly forcing anything but he was suddenly lifted in strong arms and pinned against the wall. His legs curled automatically about Tezuka’s hips, his arms hooking about the captain’s neck.

His protest forgotten, Fuji almost moaned sheerly out of delight at Tezuka’s aggressiveness. He loosened one arm to run his fingers down Tezuka’s cheek, barely grazing the captain’s lips. Said captain seemed uncertain for a moment as he leaned into the touch, then he jostled Fuji as he held the tensai tighter to the wall and his rigid length slipped into place.

Fuji tossed his head back and moaned as the head of Tezuka’s cock pushed into him. It was a slight struggle but once Fuji remembered to relax, things went rather smoothly. He was pushed up the wall as Tezuka entered him, the captain’s chest sliding against his torso, soft lips brushing his jaw.

The deeper Tezuka sunk into him, the less Fuji remembered to breathe. It felt like he had wanted this forever, like the need to be filled by Tezuka had grown in him slowly over many years, simmering and expanding. Getting what he wanted was like overflowing the confines; all of a sudden, he felt free.

And yet… he was still shackled at the same time. It was rather selfish to seduce Tezuka like this and he knew—and he cared—but… he couldn’t bring himself to stop, certainly not now. It was too late for regrets.

Tezuka slowly began to rock his hips. The position was a little awkward and wouldn’t allow for long, full strokes Tezuka, so Fuji braced himself for a rough, hard pounding—which was exactly what he wanted. Tezuka seemed to be good at giving him what he wanted.

He buried his face his Tezuka’s neck, soft brown hair tickling his skin. Moans and whimpers slipped from his lips… He felt so good. Tezuka’s cock was propped right up against his prostate, and every jerking little thrust sent ripples of pleasure throughout his lower body. 

The door supported him, taking some of his weight, and Tezuka’s arms balanced him, so he was able to grind his hips to add just a touch more friction to the motion. “Tezuka!” he gasped, as a particularly hard thrust nailed his sweet spot. “Tezuka…” he moaned, his balls and erection rubbing between their bodies and adding to the pleasure building within him. 

Growling, the captain shifted slightly, and braced them both more firmly before he began to thrust harder and more fiercely than before, his balls rising to squish against Fuji’s ass. His powerful thighs propelled him, deeper and faster. 

Fuji cried out. His next scream was unintelligible, and then he held back sound for another two thrusts before screaming “Tezuka!” loudly as he came.

Tezuka followed a moment later, whispering, “Fuji.” The name was barely audibly as he jerked and trembled, his arms tightening around the tensai, his body leaning forward to hold Fuji securely against the wall.

Panting, sweat and the last trickles of rainwater dripping down his face, Fuji felt his foundation shake as he was lowered to the ground. For a moment, he held onto Tezuka, waiting for his legs to regain functionality.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his cheek resting against Tezuka’s, his upper body still mostly leaning on the captain’s. “That was wonderful.”

Tezuka said nothing but took Fuji’s face in both hands and kissed him soundly. Floating as he was, Fuji kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the sensations. He didn’t notice several tears slip down Tezuka’s cheeks, or the gruff sound of Tezuka’s voice after he broke the kiss and spoke.

“I don’t understand you, Fuji, but I can’t pretend that hearing you scream my name doesn’t set me on fire.”

Fuji chuckled, sliding down just that little bit further until his feet were firmly on the floor. He clung to Tezuka, still, his eyes still closed. He didn’t want to let go and face reality again. “You’re the only one who can make me lose control,” he muttered. It was the truth.

Tezuka softly caressed Fuji’s cheek. “I hope you can find your motivation, Fuji. Someday, I hope to see as much passion in your tennis as I found tonight.”

Before Fuji knew it, the moment was over. Tezuka’s arms left him, and when his eyes slid open, it was to see Tezuka’s back as the captain bent to pick up his clothes.

A sob simmered in Fuji’s chest, which he fought valiantly to restrain—and won. The truth was, he wanted that, too, more than anything else.

He wondered if maybe the key to unlocking his barred and shuttered heart was tied to the missing aspect of his tennis… If he wanted to win badly enough, could he unleash the fighting spirit he was lacking? If he wanted it badly enough, could he crush the fear that kept him from loving Tezuka?

Sometimes, Fuji thought the word ‘if’ seemed much bigger than two letters could encompass.


End file.
